


Novacaine

by moonstone1520



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Heavy Angst, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Recreational Drug Use, Scars, Self-Harm, Songfic, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstone1520/pseuds/moonstone1520
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never speak of the events that transpire during danger nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Novacaine

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a very, very dark, very raw place.  
> Mentions of self harm and drug use. Don't read if those are triggers.
> 
> Inspired by the Green Day song, "Give Me Novacaine."

Sherlock slowly climbed the stairs to her flat, his feet landing heavily on every stair. His head felt as though it was attached to his neck by a string and his hands trembled dreadfully, but he didn’t care and he knew she wouldn’t either. As it happened, their danger nights coincided, and on the rare occasion that occurred, they both had decided to wait out the aftermath together. They only had one rule: they could not indulge in their respective vices together. They always met after their highs had been attained to ride out the coming down. It was easier—and safer—than doing so alone.

So, after he indulged in the sweet bliss that quieted the constant migraine that lurked in the back of his head, he made the journey to her flat. His vision blurred on the top step—perhaps he’d underestimated the dosage?—but he persisted and knocked on her door. His feelings numbed, he felt barely anything when Molly answered, though his gaze rested on the new bandages that graced her slim form. Her sweatpants hung low on her bandaged hips; her wrists, bound by gauze, pulled him in. She cupped his face in her hands and gazed into his dilated eyes, her hands moving southward to his jugular and wrists to check his pulse. Satisfied he wasn’t overdosing, she pushed his coat off his shoulders and brought him to her bedroom.

He couldn’t focus on anything for very long, but his eyes rested on Molly’s exposed back as she led him down the hallway. The bones were stark under her sports bra—he made a mental note to make sure she ate when this was all over, but the thought fluttered away in a heartbeat, lost in the haze he allowed his mind to become. For some reason, a snippet of a song he’d heard her singing in the morgue looped through his head as she guided him to her bed.

_Give me a long kiss goodnight and everything will be alright._

Molly pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of her bed and began the process of removing his shoes. She noticed red seeping through her bandages—perhaps she’d pressed harder than normal. No matter, she’d wrapped the bandages tightly enough that the bleeding would clot soon. She tapped his knees when she was finished. Sherlock lay back and pulled his legs up onto the bed, resting his head on her pillow and pulling her towards him as she climbed in. She wrapped her arms around his waist and flinched when his hips bumped against hers.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his hands brushed the bandages in a soothing gesture. She thrust against him so her hips slammed into his, sending shooting pains up her sides. She gasped and threw her head back with the sensations, keeping her own high going as she knew his was.

_The sensations overwhelming._

He pressed a kiss to her chest and wrapped his arms around her form, pulling her tighter against him, repositioning his hips so she couldn’t hurt herself again. His mouth travelled upwards, grazing her collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste her. Her hands flew from his back to his curls, her fingers digging into his scalp as he began sucking on her neck. He hissed and bit down, eliciting a low moan from Molly. He thrust his hips out of instinct and covered her resulting yelp with his mouth. She returned his kiss with passion, her tongue dueling with his as it had so many other times before this.

She broke the kiss to catch her breath and met his eyes. His breathing was erratic, but a quick evaluation told her it was from their joining, not his high spiraling out of control. His pupils were still blown and she felt his hands wander to the gauze and rest there, the pressure gentle, his fingers drawing light circles over the existing scars.

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the mess she left in the bathroom before he came over, remembering the exquisite pain of the razor digging into her skin, how much she enjoys hurting herself, how much she hates herself afterwards, how it’s never just one thing that leads her to this. How she could stop but oh god she doesn’t want to and it’s so much easier to quiet the raging inferno that rests in her heart this way.

How, when she has a danger night, she gets to feel Sherlock in her arms, on her lips, inside her.

Molly grips the back of his neck, leaving one hand there while the other travels down to the crook of his elbow.

Sherlock swallows and closes his eyes as, with her touch, he remembers how it felt when the needle punctured his skin and the poison shot through his veins, how the rush felt as the cacophony in his head quieted, leaving the feeling of bliss and contentment. How nothing works to quiet his brain anymore, to make the thoughts stop flying through his head so fast he can barely grasp them, how he needs the drugs to feel sane again, to feel _normal_.

How, when he has a danger night, he gets to feel Molly in his arms, on his lips, around his cock.

_Tell me that I won’t feel a thing._

He focuses on the beautiful, damaged woman in his arms, ignoring how much he’ll hate himself in the morning, how much Molly will hate herself, how they’ll tend to their wounds and go about life like it never happened… until the next time it does.

“Kiss the demons out of my dreams,” she whispers. He surges forward and kisses her in a frenzy. Hands, lips and teeth are everywhere as clothes disappear and new sensations are awakened as both reach for a new nirvana, out of body and out of mind.

_So give me novacaine._

They never speak of the events that transpire during danger nights.


End file.
